A man, Stanley Milk, is walking down a busy street. He is quite tall, has brown hair and not much else to distinguish him from any of the other men walking down the street. Traffic zooms by and people go about their business. No-one pays Stanley a blind bit of notice.
Stanley was running his usual internal dialogue. ‘Sometimes events control you instead of the other way around. You wake up in the morning, you’ve got to realise that you can’t plan for anything. At nine in the morning you might think you’re going away for a nice holiday and at six o’clock in the evening you’re going away to jail for the rest of your life. That’s just an example, of course, but you get the idea.’
Stanley is jostled occasionally, he winces every time he is bumped into. His expression betrays the fact that he is quite scared to be out in the big wide world. People continue to bump him, no-one offers him an apology. In fact they don’t even notice him. It is almost as if he isn’t really there.
He hurries on, his gaze firmly fixed ahead of him. In the distance he can see a very beautiful girl approaching. She is dressed in pink and is staring directly at him. Stanley drops his gaze momentarily, but he isn’t comfortable looking down so he looks up again. His sees the very beautiful girl again and now can’t take his eyes off her. She continues to stare at him as she draws nearer, she smiles at him. This is enough for Stanley, he starts to look for an escape route, he spots a little side street and darts up it. The girl follows him.
Stanley is becoming frantic and he begins to speed up. He sees a little nook-like cranny in the wall and ducks into it, as he does he hears a loud wet cracking sound, Stanley looks down and sees that the ground is covered in very large snails, he panics and starts to try to get out. The very beautiful girl is forgotten in the face of this new problem, he steps from one foot to the other trying not to step on any more snails, the stepping develops into a almost comical dance, but all the while the sound of snails shells cracking fills the air. Stanley faints, crushing even more snails as he falls. The girl is walking up the side-street. She sees Stanley lying there all covered in snail-gloop and goes over to him. She looks sadly down at him, shakes her head and carries on up the little side-street.

Stanley sits in his armchair. He is watching television. Light flickers across his face from the screen, from the oohs, aahs and occasional snatches of foreign voice it is obvious that he is watching a pornographic film. Stanley raises a glass of red wine to his lips and takes a swig. His face is expressionless. He smiles and takes another swig of wine.

Its early in the morning and Stanley is in his hallway, he is putting on his coat. Bright sunlight streams through the window, trying to spread happiness. Stanley ignores it, opens the front door and walks off down the street. He looks frightened, walks about fifty yards then he stops. He looks around as if he doesn’t know where he is. Panic crosses his face, he turns, sees his house and, his decision made, he makes his way quickly back home. Once inside he slams the door shut. He hangs his head in relief and sees an envelope lying expectantly on his coir doormat. He leans down and picks it up. On the front of the envelope is his name, neatly typed in Courier script. He opens the envelope, unfolds the letter and begins to read. Stanley’s hand starts to shake, as he sees what is written on the page. It simply says…
You had better watch your step.
Stanley reads the letter four times and then the words blur out of focus and he faints.

Later the same day Stanley sits in his armchair, he is still wearing his coat. The sounds of pornography once again issue from the television. He has the letter in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He stares intently at the letter. He is visibly shaken. The phone rings, very loudly. Stanley jumps and looks off in the direction of the ringing. After about thirty seconds the phone stops ringing and Stanley returns to staring at the letter. The phone rings again. It continues ringing and, eventually, Stanley puts the letter and his glass on the floor, gets up and goes over to it. He picks it up. SILENCE. Stanley puts the phone down and goes back to his chair. He picks up his wine, but not the letter, takes a swig and stares back at the television.

Loud music is playing and lights are flashing. Stanley is sitting on the middle seat of a three seat sofa, he has a drink in his hand. Possibly vodka. All around him people dance. Stanley drains his glass and looks around the room. The girl in the pink dress is standing on the other side of the room. She is talking intently with a young man but as she talks happens to glance sideways and notice Stanley. She smiles and walks over to him, sits down next to him and refills his glass. From the bottle, yes, it’s vodka. Stanley once again drains his glass. She refills it, all the time smiling at him. Stanley can’t take his eyes off her.

Suddenly, the music stops and the people freeze mid-dance. Stanley looks around and sees, at the other end of the room, a little girl of about eight years of age. She is dressed in a fairy outfit. She starts to walk slowly over to Stanley, threading her way through the frozen dancers. The wings of her fairy suit flop slightly as she walks. When she is right up to Stanley she stops, and holds out her hand. She is holding a small white card, she nods at it indicating that Stanley is to take it. He does as bid but very slowly. He looks down and reads the card…

You are a dead man.

The little girl starts to scream, it is an unearthly sound. And then as suddenly as she started, she stops and punches Stanley in the nose. Blood trickles down his face. The little girl turns and walks away. The music starts and people begin to dance again. Stanley is still on the couch but no-one is sitting next to him anymore. Stanley downs his drink in one.

It is dark. Stanley sits in his chair, television flickers the only illumination. He drains his glass and refills it from a bottle by his side. He is drinking neat vodka. Porno noises in the background. The phone rings, Stanley glances in its direction then turns back to the TV. The phone continues to ring. Stanley drains the glass again.

Daylight. Stanley is still in his chair, static noise in the background. He lifts his glass to his lips. It is empty. He looks confused and reaches over for his bottle; that too is empty. Panic crosses Stanley’s face and he jumps up out of his chair, he falls over. He is surrounded by empty wine and vodka bottles.

It’s night-time and very quiet. Stanley is laid out on the floor. He is crawling through the empty bottles, over to the video recorder. He presses play. The porn, once again, begins its endless loop. Stanley crawls back to his chair and struggles his way into it. He is shaking.

I am crawling down the hallway towards the front door. Every inch is an immense effort. My body shudders with every breath. I continue to crawl.

Stanley is in his chair. Static plays on the TV. We can hear muffled music, it sounds like it is coming through the wall. The phone starts to ring. Stanley doesn’t move.

I reach the front door, with every bit of energy I have left I manage I to turn the handle and open the door. I rest for a few seconds and then I crawl outside. Its very bright and sunny.

Stanley is in his chair. Static plays on the TV. He doesn’t move. He is quite obviously dead.

I crawl a little way down the path then I collapse. A foot in front of my face a snail is slowly making its way from the concrete path into the plants of the garden. I see it and my face breaks into a smile. The snail continues on its way and rain starts to fall. I close my eyes and everything goes black.

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